Enemy to All
by lazsam
Summary: We find Riven our heroine abandoned and shattered in the decimated isle of Ionia and follower her on a self imposed quest of vengeance and self discovery. She is joined by a mysterious other who shares an unbelievably similar yet different past. Accompany her as she overcomes the challenges of her past and forges a glorious future with the aid of her wayward companion. Rated M.
1. Prologue

**AN: Hey everybody. I am glad you were interested by my grossly inadequate summary. I am not here to ramble, so let me set things straight quickly. I started this story a while ago and never got it off a doc. I want to promise that I will continue updating Enemy to All; however, it would be much appreciated for readers to leave a review. It matters not what it is so long as I know there is atleast one person besides myself interested in the tale. **

**Any of you who got your hopes up seeing an M rated Yasuo Riven story I want to inform you I probably can't bring myself to write a lemon scene. **

**Hope you enjoy my twisted telling of Rivens story and please, I beg you, please leave reviews no matter how short, painful, or inarticulate. **

**P.S. Don't expect authors notes… Peace!**

Lightning bolted through the skies, etching its thin claws against the darkness, illuminating a spectacular mountain city. Colossal walls, spiked with towers, gouged into the commanding sky, encircling the megalopolis. An echoing boom rumbled over the foothills reverberating through the barren city. A faint glow between dark thunderheads betrayed the moons presence, allowing a dim light to filter from the heavens, conflicting with the dull orange glow permeating from the windows of buildings. Rain shed from the sky, whipped from free fall by ferocious winds. Rising terrifyingly into the stormy murk stood a massive structure. A single light near the greatest outreach of the citadel valiantly cast its gaze across the city and the figures in its presence.

The light beamed from inside a large circular room. Countless bookshelves lined the circumference of the room. The walls of the room proceeded far beyond the edge of the book shelves, filled with dark cracks and worn brick. They curved upwards towards the center of the room where a sturdy cable hung the stalwart light. A beautiful circular carpet was placed in the center of the room and nearly touched the walls of the room. At one end of the room, massive double doors loomed ominously. The door frame was made of dark blackened limestone and the doors themselves were painted blood red with matching dark black handles on each door sculpted so that a ravens head protruded from the center of the loop. Opposite the intimidating doorway was a desk made of dark wood painted to match the doors. The desk had a sheen on it that most items in the room lacked as if it were the only thing cleaned and maintained. The top of the desk, however, was littered with scattered papers. Some crumpled angrily and others torn. Directly under the light and above the carpet, was a large table that was beautifully shined and polished. Obscure scratches betrayed its countless uses. Hushed voices drifted from the persons surrounding the table. The chairs they sat in were overly large often times much higher than the tops of their heads, but they were extremely ornate and had matching bright red cushions pinned down with dull gold buttons each etched with a symbol of crossed swords. An odd assortment of characters sat around the table, each accompanied by a drink. The drinks were in ornate goblets encrusted with gems and were all full to the brim with untouched wine.

The oldest man was adorned with rich fabrics and multiple medals of brilliance. His head was partially cloaked by a dark scarf that wrapped around his face just below his nose. The mans eyes were a piercing unnatural red color that glowed with life and intelligence. His hair had long ago vacated the dome of his head leaving behind an ugly scarred surface, but, most peculiar, was the raven that seemed faithful to the man. The creature had many eyes that matched the mans' and the same intelligence hid within the beast. Thunder boomed in the distance and all the eyes in the room glance around as if the shadows themselves may attack before returning their gazes back to the elder.

Perhaps the youngest present was also the only female. A pale white face was accented by dark purple lipstick and matching eyeliner. A large golden headdress wrapped around her forehead and arched over the dome of her head. A bright red ruby was encrusted into the headdress above her nose drawing attention away from her light brown eyes. Her dark revealing dress matched the color of her hair, but was embroidered in a dull gold. She clutched a staff in her hands. The top a cluster of pink crystals that peculiarly all had a reflection of her in them regardless of whether she was looking at them.

A bear of a man sat to the right of the old man. A streak of grey going through his roughly cropped dark black hair. Large bulging muscles were restrained by heavy metal armor. Amazingly the worn armor still had a sheen to it and seemed to glow a dull red. The mans face was adorned with a crooked nose that obviously had been broken numerous times. His face sported countless scars and cold calculating eyes. A massive weapon was slung over his shoulder. The blade of the astonishing axe was bearded and as wide as a normal mans torso.

The final member of the group was intriguing. Bandages covered his hands and arms wrapped several times with a sickly green color to them. His skin was pale and was pocket marked with scars from a multitude of rashes. A sinister cloth wrapped around his head mirroring the man across from. His eyes were cruel and detached. The hair on his head was sparse and appeared only in isolated clumps sticking out at odd angles. A large container was leaning against the back leg of his chair. At the top of the container was a large cork and wisps of green gases trailed from the seal.

The women with staff now spoke, "Swain," The man with the raven looked towards her. "I think that your plan is risky. We have to insure her death or she will cause problems." She then turned to face the sickly man and said, "Singed, are you sure your poisons will kill everything. We cannot have survivors."

Before Singed could respond the man addressed as Swain spoke calmly, "LeBlanc, I have utmost confidence in Singed and his poisons capability. I have seen them used first hand. Riven won't possibly survive the barrage."

Singed nodded his appreciation and added, "I have not seen anyone survive my chemicals except myself," He paused and then said, "and I have the antidote." An evil smile barely appeared over the edges of his scarf making him appear even more sinister.

Swain then turned to the bear of a man to his right and ordered, "Darius, send orders to Riven to move her company towards the capital of Ionia and make sure she is in position for… our plans." Swain then pulled his scarf down around his neck revealing his hideously disfigured jaw and raised his goblet to his lips and gulped down the wine greedily.

Darius answered, "Yes, Sir. But, does she really need to be… removed?"

Swain looked at Darius carefully and said, "She is too loyal to Noxus. She doesn't know of true power. She will side with that fool. We can't allow her to live. The risks are too great."Swain stood up slowly from his sitting position groaning under his breath and as everyone turned to leave he said, "Not a word of this to Darkwill. Understood?"

The group answered in a resounding chorus of, "Yes, of course."


	2. Chapter 1

**AN: Okay, I am sorry. Never again. In my excitement/haste/anxiety I left out a small ending to this chapter. You shouldn't need to re-read it or anything. Forgive my beginners mistake and I will never do it again... hopefully. Chapter 2 is well on its way out. **

**P.S. Actually though, don't expect these.**

A bright, cloud speckled blue sky matched the glorious ocean surrounding a large island. Colossal mountains rose towards the center ringed in brilliant white powerful sun floated high in the sky casting penetrating rays of light into the bright green rolling hills of Ionia. Patches of sunlight dappled the beautiful countryside. Stands of trees pocket marked the land with dark green smudges. Farmland etched out square patterns into the tapestry of earth. Clusters of hovels were all that indicated a community. The only large city to be seen was at the base of the mountain itself with large marble walls that elegantly complemented the green background of the land. Behind the walls numerous structures rose above with square roofs with paneling that curved downwards half a story and then jutted outwards. The only great river of Ionia started from the peaks of the great mountain range and flowed across the land effectively dividing the island and great city in two. The rivers deep blue color betrayed its vast depths and despite that the only bridge across the vast river was in the metropolis at the base of the mountain at the rivers thinnest, but swiftest point.

A streak of smoke and blackened ground was the only blemish and it was growing. At the head of the blackened trail rolled fearsome war machines. The black behemoths had spikes wherever the could possibly be place. Massive turrets sat atop dirty treads. They belched smoke and nauseous gases that followed them wherever they went. A single turret gunner could be seen atop each vehicle. They were equipped with a radio and goggles. The frequently barked orders. Behind the ferocious monsters a large army marched. A single women lead the front column. A massive sword clutched impressively in one hand. The blade glowed a sickly green that brightened around runes etched in the greatsword. Her hair was a unnatural white color that seemed out of place on her young face. Piercing auburn eyes complemented her tanned skin. Her armor was a dark green color that was almost black. Large spikes protruded from her armor neatly spaced along the edges.

Behind her the mighty Noxian army marched steadily deeper into the Ionian countryside. The soldiers were all outfitted the same. The army of noxus was uniform and well disciplined allowing only the officers to wield their weapon of choice. Each of the footmen held a square shield and a hand and a half sword that curved slightly. The only unique feature on the soldiers was the crest on their shields. The crest was used for identification because it represented ones house. Also in the ranks of the army were archers and mages. The archers were equipped with a simple longbow and a dagger. Each man sported black leather armor typically adorned with feathers and other trophies. The mages had a more lenient uniform. They had a choice of weaponry from daggers to staves. Most chose dark robes that covered their bodies and veiled their faces in shadow. The final group in the army were the artillery soldiers. These men were blackened with gunpowder and carried canisters of the explosive material. Those unfortunate enough to not be carrying the dangerous material were forced to push the heavy cannonry and the supply wagons.

As Riven marched she found herself in a dilemma. The war machines led by Singed were quickly advancing at a pace her army could not hope to match and at the same time an Ionian force had been spotted by her scouts and she feared that unless she turned her forces to meet them their supply lines would be severed. A massive raven swooped down and landed gracefully on the ground. In stared up at riven and squaked noisily. It then held out its ankle revealing a cannister. Riven shrugged thinking of Swain and his uncanny ability to control the birds. Riven stooped down and removed the canister gently and opened it. A small raveled letter was found inside.

_Riven_

_My informants have told me of a plan to disconnect our supply lines. The Ionian forces are let by Master Lito's daughter. Route them back to their pathetic capital and chase them all the way there. _

_-Swain_

It quickly solved her dilemma and Riven found herself agreeing with the master tactician. The supply lines were the lifeblood of any army. Riven quickly reorganized her soldiers and prepared to march into the Ionian forces. The disciplined army was quick to assume its new well drilled positions. The Ionians had given the Noxian army a wide berth and were skillfully preventing themselves from being silhouetted against the horizon. Riven found herself chasing a ghost army that evade her at every turn. As soon as it appeared they wereFinally as the sun lowered in the sky Riven had cornered the Ionians.

A large valley separated the two masses of soldiers and equipment, flanked by the steady river. The setting sun cast a bloody light across the rolling hills and valleys of the Ionian countryside foreshadowing the battle to come. The warriors of Ionia lined the ridge with an assortment of weapons and armor. The Ionians were tired and disheveled. Many of the soldiers looked like simple farmers who had been called to arms. Most sported rusty weapons and armor that hadn't been used in eons. The peaceful Ionians philosophy so easily failed against the militaristic Noxians. The Ionians ranged in age from old farmers with greying hair to young men barely worthy of the title. The rag tag band stood defiantly against the far superior force of Noxians that now stood across the valley threateningly. The sun floated just over the heads of the Ionians casting their shadows across the grassland. A brief stand off ensued, the tension in the air could almost be felt like electricity. The silence quickly dissolved as the thundering of Noxian artillery soared overhead. The first shells struck the field. Most missed, punching holes into the countryside throwing up dirt and rocks. The dust created by the projectiles hung, a brown smudge, in the air. After a brief pause the an Ionian stepped forward.

Her strong green eyes complemented her determined face. She had long white hair that matched Rivens unnatural color and also matched the strange woman's armor. The woman was dressed in colorful red and white armor that gleamed in the fading sunlight. Her chest was barely armored and revealed her shoulders and some cleavage. Her legs were thickly covered in overlapping plates of armor while her arms had a loose silk fabric draped around them. Her weapon was a great sword that was dwarfed only by Rivens colossal weapon. She hoisted her weapon and charged down the hill roaring a battle cry that was echoed by her rag tag army. The Ionians roared down the slope being drowned out as another barrage of artillery was fired into their lines. Blood joined the dirt in sickly clouds that floated in the air capturing the dying red sunlight.

Riven was now in the thick of the fray. With great agility she twirled through the air in a terrifying dance of blood and gore. Without hesitation she swept her blade through ranks of Ionians causing the wind itself to become a brutal weapon. She continuously flipped through the air punching deep into the Ionian forces. A cavalry horn drew her attention from her graceful dance and she turned to her left where the sound had emitted. Ionian horseman with lances were thundering into her armies flank. They quickly decimated the weak left wing. Raising her sword she roared, the green light in her sword brightening almost blindingly.

"To me!" She bellowed and several of her nearby footmen roared their battle cries following their inspirational leader into the dangerous cavalry charge. Riven slashed and pummeled her way through the cavalry slaughtering horse and man alike. Her blade easily cleaved through armor and flesh, ripping through mens legs and cutting through their horse in single swings.

Panting Riven took in her surroundings. The Ionian army was in shambles. Several pockets of resistance still fought valiantly often to the last man standing. The main Ionian force had been forced up the valley and now was beginning a full retreat. Through the crowd Riven could make out their young leader, Irelia. Her hair was long and white, the same unnatural color as riven. She wore a bright red and white metal tunic. She was wielding a greatsword in two hands, but it was much smaller in size compared to Rivens. Her eyes shone with determination and courage. She was looking back at the bloody cratered battle ground that would inevitably scar her homeland for decades. Irelia was bellowing orders and pointing this way and that, occasionally barking at fleeing soldiers. She seemed to be urging her forces, however, her efforts seemed wasted on the troops for many were dropping their weapons and fleeing. Finally Irelia turned and retreated with her army.

As Riven approached the crest of the ridgeline Irelia and her army had stood silhouetted upon the smoke from many chimneys wafted and tumbled lazily through the clear skies. Riven drew her sword. Fools, she thought, so confident in their defense that they were still preparing their last meal instead of running to dine another night. As she watched several men exited numerous houses with various farm tools and formed a loose mob in between her and their cluster of shacks. A noble, but suicidal attempt. She raised her sword and ordered her army to the battle. The slaughter. Her sword pulsated dimly with ancient energy. She dashed forward in the midst of her vanguard a wide space cleared around her leaving ample space for her gargantuan sword. As she crashed into the farmers unorganized front line she considered the foolish stubbornness that every Ionian possessed and briefly she wondered how the men and women of Noxus would defend themselves. She decided they would not be nearly as valiant.

Tirelessly she crashed through the untrained Ionian farmers and soon they were in a complete route. As her blade sliced through their limbs her sword propelled limbs and debris through the air tearing through clothing. In a mighty swing of her blade Riven forced the air itself to cut forward in a well honed technique that cut men in two leaving their insides hanging out. Blood spattered the ground and surrounding houses creating a fine mist creating an awful smell of gore. Slaughter was her least favorite task of the entire war and lately they were doing more and more of it.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to all of you that let me know about the formatting. Unfortunately I am a bit new to this site, and whether it was my error or the websites I do not know. I will do my best to avoid it and more importantly react MUCH faster than I have with this chapter. Forgive my lack of awareness. To resolve this problem it seems I will have to write much shorter chapters or transfer the document from google drive to Microsoft word. Perhaps that information will save someone else the trouble. Oh, and unfortunately do to now using word it will change the formatting from my earlier work. Again my apologies and I hope you all can tolerate the change in format better than I.**

The man inhaled deeply. The Ionian capital always had the best air of the island according to many, and to him it was undeniably the truth. The city sparkled in the sun. The light glinting off high red capped towers. A spiral pattern rolled around each tower that raised into the sky a bright red that was visible for miles and contrasted with the glaring white that adorned each and every building. High walls guarded the view allowing only the grandest and most impressive building to be visible. To outsiders the city was the perfect utopia. Today the city would be in upheaval. The Noxians had established a beach head almost uncontested and now their weapons of war rolled across the beautiful Ionian landscape. He was a new graduate from the Ionian college of war. Really it was just a swordsmanship school; however, he was no ordinary soldier. He was the best. A master of the sword and the wind. He was welcomed into the royal guard mere moments after stepping of the graduation platform and now was adorned in their intricate armor. His shoulders had three large sheets of plate mail that curved upwards to be level with the height of his head and were a dull blue with gray trimming patterned like feathers on an angels wings. The rest of his body was a simple blue tunic. It had a long neck that covered his mouth and surrounded his head. A brown belt that resemble nothing more than a thick rope wrapped around his waist. Armored greaves exposed much of his foot, but rose up his leg with his blue leggings tucked inside. Over all the armor didn't offer much protection from the elements or an enemy sword. Luckily for him the wind seemed to keep the rain away and his sword could match the fastest of swings.

He had walked far now to reach the Placidium where he would receive his wartime assignment. The roads were bumpy and lacked the constant travel necessary to wear them down to truly useful and often times were filled with mud from rain many days in the past. He avoided those areas to the best of his ability knowing the feeling of mud caught in his greaves would irritate him to no end.

"Yasuo, my boy! How have you fared after graduation?" An elder of the council of Ionia shouted warmly as he entered their large building with in the placidium. The building was impressive, but paled in comparison to the Lito castle at the rear of the city. On the outside there were large columns that were decorated with leaves and vines that spiraled on them to the top of the structure. A large dome crowned the building gold rings lacing around it. Vertical grooves added to its intricacy and to its beauty. With in, there were many chambers and hallways, but the chamber of councillors was easily found. It was at the heart of the building with a large hallway leading directly to the lobby where the large doors were held open to the rest of the city. It was mostly a symbolic gesture and despite its subtleness most people of Ionia appreciated the act. The chamber of councillors was jokingly nicknamed the chamber of elders by the people of Ionia because of the age of the majority of the councillors and the councillors themselves often referred to as the Elders.

"I am well, Councillor Jaru." His answer was curt and he bit his tongue, but the elder had a small smile on his face and laughter in his eyes.

"So eager for you first wartime assignment? I would hope you were more solemn like your brother. No matter, let us get down to business since you appear so eager." Jaru said. "Luckily the rest of the council has important matters to attend and won't be available for a lengthy conversation. We did predetermine where we can use someone of your caliber. Councillor Gyro has foolishly decided to return to his village. Protect him, Yasuo."

Yasuo seethed in anger. He was the best swordsman Ionia had ever seen. Even Master Yi could not obtain his skill. His thoughts raged in his head. A protection assignment? In some lonely village? He opened his mouth to voice his frustration, but Jaru interrupted him. "Yasuo, do not let your arrogance stray your mind from the importance of Councillor Gyro and his safety. He heads an important movement with Karma to try and reforge our ways and I believe that is the right path. By protecting him you will protect our future Yasuo!"

Still Yasuo opened his mouth to speak. "No discussion Yasuo. You are a royal guard of all things! Please go and calm yourself and check your pride! Do not let anything happen to Councillor Gyro. Stay by his side at all times."

"Yes Jaru." Yasuo bowed low and then spun on his heel walking quickly from the building. He never looked back to catch the disapproval upon his old friend's face or the pool of worry behind his eyes.

He began his march immediately despite having just traveled to the Placidium. His indignation fueled him. Yasuo shouldered his way through the crowds of the city and soon was on the open roads of the countryside. As the sun sank into the skies he veered off the path and began preparing his campsite. He created a small fire and then smoothed out his sleeping roll on the grass next to it. He prepared a tea and stew over the fire and wallowed in self pity.

He was up before the sun. His fire was a pile of cool ashe. He quickly strapped on his shoulder plates and resumed his march towards his assignment. Thinking about this unexpected turn of events made him want to scream in frustration. He had anticipated fighting with the army protecting a general or escorting advisors out of hostile zones. Instead he was babysitting an insane elder hiding away in an isolated village.

The road narrowed considerably down to the size of a simple foot path. forests of bamboo encroached on the sides and Yasuo found himself watching underfoot for the cut shafts that potentially could harm his feet.

A bamboo gate way and columns of smoke rising from several chimneys was his only hint that he approached the village. As he passed underneath the bamboo gate a large clearing came into view surrounded by structures varying in size, but none more than one floor. A small fountain was at the center of the village and surrounding it were several stands and kiosks selling their products. One was selling rare sea shells while another sold wooden figurines. More still sold various types of fruit, bread, and other foodstuffs. The village was very homely and possessed an air of tranquility. A guardsmen approached him. He wore light leather armor studded with iron and sported a long spear. He had a groomed black beard and hard eyes.

"I am Miku, the head guardsmen. Can I help you, Sir?" He introduced while eyeing Yasuo's finely crafted sword and royal guard armor.

"Greetings Miku." Yasuo bowed his head to him slightly ignoring Miku's frown that briefly creased his face. "I am Yasuo. Yes, I am looking for councillor Gyro."

"It is a pleasure to meet with a member of the royal guard. Gyro is in his house tucked away in the bamboo forests at the outskirts of town. Is the matter urgent?" Miku answered.

"I have been instructed to protect him during his stay here. I was tasked by the council themselves."

"If that is the case I will take you there immediately."

"Can I not find it myself?" Yasuo asked somewhat angrily.

"There is no distinct path and the house is not designated with anything special. You would find yourself having a hard time identifying it from those surrounding it." Miku answered with a slight growl to his voice.

"Fine. Show me the way." Yasuo conceded his voice also giving an undercurrent of maliciousness. Yasuo followed slightly behind Miku. He wore a white tunic underneath his brown leather armor and to him it made the man seem too smug and confident. Yasuo glowered at the back of the mans head. His hair was cut short and a broad rimmed hat adorned his head. An idiot Yasuo decided.

Councillor Gyro was sitting in front of his home playing a flute. It was simply made with nothing special about it except the sound. It sounded amazing. Gyro ceased his playing, but did not look up. Instead he said, "I love this flute. It reminds me that even the simplest of things can hide hidden beauty and that all you have to do is practice to achieve it."

The scowl on Yasuo's face increased at the elders words. "I am here to prot-" Yasuo began before being interrupted by the elder.

"Yasuo, always in a rush." A smile came to his face as he looked up. "Not all winds are quick, child. Many winds are gentle and calming."

"I am a master of the wind don't speak to me of it."

"Here, play this flute." The elder said offering it up to him.

"I don't know how to play a flute. My only instrument is a blade." Yasuo responded chin held high so that he couldn't even look at the flute.

"Then I have mastered part of the wind that even you have not." With a smile the old man went back to playing his tune.

When Yasuo turned to look at Miku he found that the man had already left him. Yasuo decided to look about the area and search for potential areas an assassin may approach through. The bamboo was thick all around the house. The only real approach he could think of was the way he came.

Bored and frustrated Yasuo returned to the front of the house where Gyro still sat. And still played. Yasuo nearly shouted.

"Councillor Gyro -" Yasuo began before Gyro interrupted him yet again.

"Gyro is fine Yasuo."

"Uh, Okay, Gyro. Where am I supposed to sleep?"

Gyro's eyes grew wide and he exclaimed, "I am expected to accommodate you?" The amusement in his eyes betrayed his faked surprise. "I'll only have a brute like you in the house if you promise to civilize a bit." Again the beginnings of a smile formed on his lips and a sparkle of laughter shown in his eyes.

"How might you do that?" Yasuo asked barely hiding his anger.

"I will teach you how to play an instrument other than the sword of course!" Gyro answered exuberantly. "We will start now."

"Oh." Yasuo said lost for words.

"First you are going to need an instrument! Go into the bamboo forest and find a nice piece."

"Piece?"

"Of bamboo!" Gyro shouted in exasperation.

Yasuo struggled with the urge to strangle the elder while he trudged into the forest. It was pleasantly calming and he found himself unable to be angry at the youthful old man. He stared around the forest of perfectly straight bamboo and realize he had no idea what type of bamboo would make a good flute. He drew his sword and slashed through an old piece of bamboo and admired the perfectly straight cut. The wind always surrounded his blade and nothing was sharper or smoother than it. The wind also gave him precision, speed, and power that most people could not hope to possess. He shrugged. This bamboo might as well turn into a flute.

"Yasuo! Back so soon? Eh, is that your bamboo? Oh, no, no that simply won't do." Gyro rambled in a flurry of questions and comments as if voicing his thoughts.

"Why won't it?"

"The bamboo needs to be young when it is most flexible and will produce the best sound."

"Fine I will search for a young bamboo plant."

Yasuo spun on his heel and threw up his cast out bamboo stick and quickly drew his sword dicing it into several pieces before allowing it to return to the ground. He stormed into the bamboo forest on his quest. Still the forests succeeded in calming him. Quickly he found a fresh shoot. It was up to his waist and he figured that it would leave plenty of room to trim down to a flute the same size as Gyro. He tried to be a bamboo connoisseur and lifted it to eye level and inspected it carefully. He ended up just feeling like a fool. To him there was no difference between the bamboo in his hand to that of all the others. Shrugging he returned to Gyro.

"Excellent Yasuo!" Gyro shouted before he even turned the corner.

"How do you now Gyro," Yasuo called to him.

"Well, the only way you could have messed up was to bring a dead bamboo plant so, I figure you got a living one." Gyro answered with a impossibly large smile.

"Please, no more games. You are trying every last shred of patience I have so long trained to possess. This bamboo stick will work as a flute?"

"Yes, It will. Yasuo you will find a bed prepared in one of the spare rooms. Look for the tea and brown bamboo door."

Yasuo entered the house and quickly noticed all the doors were bamboo. Crazy old man he thought. A room branching off the dining room matched all the specifications meaning it had tea on a night stand. The space was plain enough. There was a small bed on one side and to Yasuo's horror a plain flute was resting on the pillow. The walls were completely void of decoration and a single window was open allowing a gentle breeze into the room. Through it he could see all the way to the fountain at the center of town and the sun slowly descending below the horizon. A true feat of luck or precision considering the bamboo forests surrounding them.

Each day for the next few weeks consisted of simple flute lessons throughout the day and Yasuo running errands for Gyro. He had grown fond of the man despite his annoying nature and perhaps because of his annoying nature. Either way he found himself content in the mans company.

Despite himself he began to achieve some skill with his flute and began playing on his own to both his and Gyro's surprise. He found it soothing and often times found the air around him thrumming with energy and a joyful breeze often flew about him.

Smoke began being sighted all around them. After a couple of days it seemed a ring of smoke plumes surrounded the village. It was midday and Yasuo was just starting to prepare tea for his and Gyro's lunch when commotion in the town clearing dragged him out of Gyro's house.

When he arrived he was met by Miku the town guard captain. He was out of breath sweat glistened off his body. A large breath between each word he shouted out, "The… Noxians… are… here!" He repeatedly yelled it throughout the village until everyone had gathered in the center. He jumped onto the edge of the fountain. "Men! The Noxians will not spare you or your families! They will kill and burn every last inch of life from our village! Gather any means of weaponry! We must defend! We cannot lose! There will be no survivors of this fight unless we win… do not die stretching your neck for their swords!"

Men entered and exited homes with their grand fathers rusted ornate swords and others without military trends grabbed a collection of tools from pitch forks to shovels. Men and women of all ages grabbed any means of defense. Parents hid their children. The guard force was meager. Miku and four others were the only slightly trained soldiers.

Yasuo remembered his orders. Defend Gyro. He returned to the elders house. Gyro sat waiting for him outside. Flute in hand a happy tune hummed through the air. Yasuo shook his head at the tone of the music. Such a song should not be played before a slaughter. "Noxians!" A scream yelled from the village gateway. Soon screams of the innocent and the class of steel and wood echoed through the air.

"Yasuo," Gyro began. "You should be aiding my village not sitting here staring into the clearing watching a massacre.

"Gyro, I would love to be out on the frontlines, but my task was made perfectly clear and failure is not an option.

"Yasuo, what good will you do sitting here waiting to defend me? Nothing, my boy. If they lose out there, I am already lost. Go! The clearing is where my life will be saved or lost!" Gyro exclaimed angrily his sentence punctuated by the scream of a man in agony.

"I… but," Yasuo stammered.

"Go! Now Yasuo! Before it is too late. We all must die sometime and my life is not worth that of my people!"

"As you wish, Councillor."

He looked back only once and the councillor was sitting in the grass outside his home flute in hand. Yasuo shook his head slightly to himself in disapproval.

The thickest fighting was in the center of the clearing. It was surprising until he realized how few Noxians had actually made the treck to the village. There were perhaps thirty-five Noxians in sight and they were hard pressed to defend against the numbers of the were seasoned warriors, and any misstep made by a villager normally ended with a sword through them. There were many dead Ionian villagers towards the front of the village as the Noxians pushed in. At the center of the Noxian line a soldier wielded a massive sword. The blade was easily the width of his waist and as long as he was standing.

As Yasuo pushed through the villagers he began feeling random projectiles propelled through the air towards him. Not doing much more than scratching his exposed skin. The cause was the women. She wielded the sword with deadly efficiency and some how controlled the wind with each swing.

Shrapnel of bone began to hit him as he drew closer and he could see the crimson color of her eyes and her black hair made her seem like a demon. Her armor and blade was black and olive green and pulsated with every swing. Runes on her sword and armor occasionally emitted bright green tinting the faces of the people around her green.

She was upon him. Her massive blade swung and he met it with his sword. The strength behind her swing was immense. He felt his muscles shudder and then she was swinging again. He dodged to the side feeling the wind making his skin raw. Together they were a tempest of air and steel. He became unaware of his surroundings and all he knew were her crimson eyes and massive blade. He felt himself weakening. When he parried he stumbled backwards and his dodges were always just barely in time. Then he was too slow. The flat of her blade smashed into his side. He was flung to the left rolling into a small cottage. The demon raised her sword, but was interrupted by one of her soldiers.

"Riven! We… we are… we need help at the front!"

Without hesitation Riven left him lying against the cottage broken.


	4. Chapter 3

"Riven! We… we are… we need help at the front!" Dorkic said out of breath.

The man cowered at her glare, but she said nothing and dashed to the front taken aback by her duel with the strange man still lying against the house. No one, but Darius or Talon, lasted so long against her in melee combat and she found herself admiring the strange mans strength. To her, strength and prowess was most important and the man may have been weaker than her, but he possessed enormous potential and most intriguing also used the wind to aid his strikes.

All of her thoughts took place as she turned to leave him perhaps sparing his life and perhaps letting the strong survive to fight another day. That was the way of Noxus after all.

When Riven arrived at the front lines she was appalled by her soldiers. It wasn't that they were losing. No, against these peasants the weakest, wayward soldier was more than enough. Her dissatisfaction was that they had not finished their job. They hadn't finished the slaughter and that meant she would have to.

Her blade shimmered a sickly green glow radiating from it as she raised it above her head brandishing it and rallying her troops with a battle cry. The towns weak militia was nothing to her men with her pressing them forward. She pushed forward quickly running out of Ionians for her thirsty blade. There was only one house left. An old man sat outside of it and he looked at her peacefully.

"Who do I owe the pleasure?" The old man asked.

Just kill him. The thoughts for blood rushed through her head. Talking is meaningless. The man is the weaker! Kill him! Of course the voice was right. She should kill him on the spot. Instead she answered, "I will spare you the honor."

"I will give you mine, Noxian.I am councillor Gyro. I know the ways of your nation better than you it seems. Do you forget the old ways, child of Noxus? What is the purpose of strength when all of us are weak?"

"You... You know nothing of Noxus! I should quarter you on the spot!" Riven screamed in rage. Her men stared around watching the encounter wide eyed at their enraged commander who was so often calm and collected. This councillor! This esteemed elder of Ionia was here in a backwater village? Doubt flooded the recesses of her mind. There was perhaps an inkling of truth to the old fools words.

"Perhaps I know very little of the _new_ Noxus, but I remember the old ways. Noxians used to be _strong_, _honorable_, and _admirable_. Despite your harsh ways you protected those that were weak and you actually _valued_ true battle! What is this _slaughter_? Is this the combat and glory you hunt!" The elder said venomously.

Riven could no longer tolerate the man. Her sword flashed a stunningly bright and with a powerful swing she sent the wind roaring at the offending cretin. Elder Gyro's eyes widened in a mixture of fear and surprised.

The light in his eyes left him when his life left him. His head nearly decapitated by the force of the wind. He was slumped back against the wall of his hut. His treasured flute embedded in the wall level with the gash across his neck.

Riven turned back to her men disgusted with the rage the elder had incited in her. "Set the village aflame! We leave immediately!" The soldiers quickly create torches from scraps of clothing and dead forest wood. They toss the torches into house windows and onto the thatch roofs. The village is soon ablaze. The heat of the flame begins to grow uncomfortable in the village and Riven joins the rest of her contingent underneath the bamboo arch.

The small army forms up and they begin their march behind Riven and her second in command Murik. "Don't let that old man get to you Riven. I saw your anger," Murik stated as she turned her gaze to him.

She glared at him. "I don't appreciate your insight, Murik. Do not worry about me either. I am not so weak to be swayed by such a weakling as the Ionian Council member."

"I meant no offense Riven."

"It doesn't matter. We need to pick up the pace. I must receive Darius's orders at the end of this trail. He promised me a courtier."

"As you wish. I will spread the word around the men," Murik said obediently.

Riven felt a small smile graced her face as she remembered why she appreciated Murik so much. When she thought about it, she loved her entire company. Despite their failures she felt attached to them all as brothers in arm. A bond that would never be broken.

As promised a courtier was waiting for her at the edge of the bamboo forest. In his hand there was an envelope with a seal of Noxian high command. She snatched it from the mans hands and dismissed him with a quick wave hardly acknowledging his presence. The letter was directly from Swain. Riven found the man despicable yet admirable. Swain was strong and he was cunning. His combination of intelligence and power left him a deadly force to be reckoned with. By the time Darkwill realized the threat Swain posed it had been far too late.

_Riven_

_I have no small task for you. I need you to lead your small contingent through sunset valley. Sunset valley is parallel to the route the rest of our forces, led by Darius, will take. You will make up our second front as we march on the Placidium. I trust you to follow orders. Our recon team that pushed up the valley reported few resistance and those they found the slaughtered on sight. You will act as a follow up force to aid our main army in case of unexpected resistance. Forever strong, Riven!_

_-Swain_

Riven lets out a sigh. The strategy is simple enough, but Swain seems to overestimate the size of her force. Her men would be no use as a flanking army when they barely qualify as a company. No matter. Her distaste of Swain did not leave her ignorant of his tactical genius.

"Murik, I think we will be marching down Sunset Valley. Prepare the men we will camp here for the night and then set forth."

Murik looked at her in surprise and began to open his mouth, but apparently thought better of it and bit his tongue. He turned on his heel and spread Riven's orders to the men. The soldiers immediately began pitching tents or setting up fires. All of them were pre-assigned roles by their squad leader. The result was an efficient well trained war machine.

As the sun vanished behind the horizon the camp became rowdy and boisterous. The behavior was typical of soldiers after a victory despite how hollow it was. Riven found no joy in the pointless slaughter that seemed to haunt her throughout the nights. Even now before she had fully drifted into unconsciousness the faces of those she had slaughtered. Men and Women plagued her with their death screams.

The worst however was by far the screams of the children. They echoed through her mind and images of their faces and teddy bears clutched to their chests truly inspired her self hate. There was no justification for their murder. They were not weak, only beginning to discover the world and live their lives. Her nightmares were awful that night.

The next morning she gathered her forces. She brought out a map and determined that the march to the valley and then to the placidum would be at least two weeks. A long march free to torment her with the recent past that she knew would haunt her.


	5. Chapter 4

Terrible pain flared across his body. His eyes were still closed and he gasped in surprise at the overwhelming pain that was relayed to his brain from parts of his body he had no idea could even remotely be in so much pain. Finally he opened his eyes. In shock he turned his head looking at the decimated village.

Only the burnt out husks of buildings remained; and the corpses of Ionians. The bamboo forests around the village now smoked, a few tongues of flame still licked hungrily out amongst rubble and burnt bamboo shoots. The once beautiful sky was now plagued with nasty smoke that choked the once tranquil land. Blood was spattered seemingly on every surface in the village. The reek of gore was strong in the air. Bile rose into his throat, but he swallowed down his revulsion with a grimace.

Yasuo coughed, still lying down. His whole body ached more than he thought possible. His breaths were unsteady and his lungs were clogged with smoke. Blood tainted his saliva and he felt the need to spit the smoky blood flavored bile.

He stood on his shaky legs and eventually found the courage to move. Slowly he walked around the center field. The once simple fountain was now crushed into oblivion and chunks of the stone were strewn about the gathering square. Yasuo closed his eyes and inhaled taking in the horrid smells.

With wide eyes he remembered Elder Gyro. With a quick turn he began to head in the elder's hut. The movement was not without cost and he felt his wounds flare. He shrugged off the pain to the best of his ability and with a grimace on his face marched to the hut. As he went farther from the center square the destruction decreased to an extent. The houses weren't completely burnt out husks. There was still severe damage, but instead of the houses lacking their roofs and some walls they had the remains of burnt furniture and peeling blackened paint. Yasuo felt a small glimmer of hope as he saw these signs of the past village.

His hope was blasted into a million peices and replaced with despair and horror at the sight before him. Outside the elder's house lay the elder's body. The only wound on the man's crumpled form was a massive gash across his throat. Blood pooled all around his body, now dry. To his horror the blood had been sprayed from the poor man's neck wound many feet from his body.

Yasuo could not handle the sight. He collapsed back to his knees. Tears threatened his eyes and he felt his will to be alive decimate itself. He had failed. His one purpose and he had failed and worse, he was still alive. There was no excuse. There was no justification.

He blinked through his tears and through his blurry vision he noticed something odd about the wound. Something familiar and yet, so very strange. The cut was not jagged. It was a perfect split of his throat. Practically impossible by any blade forged by man. There was only one thing, one technique, that could produce such a perfect cut; Empowered wind.

Yasuo was dumb-founded. As far as he knew, no, anyone knew, only he could perform such a method. It was impossible. Yasuo couldn't think clearly. His failure and injuries to his body pushed him into delirium and soon he found himself lying on the ground, eyelids heavy.

He closed his eyes no longer able to accept the horrifying reality that he had awoken to. Tears rolled down his face as he drifted away into his horrible nightmares.

When he finally came to his eyes peacefully opened. Gyro's flute lay inches from his face nearly blocking his vision of the blackened hut and bamboo forest. Only nearly, Yasuo's eyes shot open as wide as they could possibly be and his horrible shock resurfaced.

Yasuo gripped the flute. His knuckles turned white by the strength of his grip. He slowly stood up and was pleasantly surprised to find his body had seemingly made a miraculous recovery. His injuries were now just dull aches and easily ignorable. His eyes fell upon a shovel.

Yasuo dug until his hands bled, his muscles torn, and his body exhausted. Despite the state of his body he had managed to dig a hole for each villager in the center clearing. To his disgust, there were few Noxian bodies that needed a shallow grave.

He brought Gyro's flute with him and sat where the fountain had once stood. With a heavy heart and thoughts of the old man Yasuo brought his flute to his lips. The sound seemed eerie like a ghosts wail. Yasuo smiled grimly. The flute suited him. He again brought the flute up and he played the sad tune. The wind around him whipped into a frenzy surrounding him in rapid swirls. Dust and dirt kicked up around him and soon he was a small ball oval of voracious wind. Soon the wind engulfed the entire clearing.

Time seemed to freeze around him. The wind invigorated his body and he tirelessly played the single tune. Yasuo's mind was a dark place of anger and grief. To him the world didn't exist.

Under the cover of darkness a small group of Ionians slipped passed the Noxian company in the Coeur valley. The men had but one task; to evacuate elder Gyro. Their hopes were great; The councillors village was quite isolated. The Noxians would have to make a considerable detour to locate it. The Ionians hope was sorely misplaced. The Noxian High Command had insisted every road followed; no one would be spared the purification.

As the men reached the turn off to the elders village from the main road their hopes plummeted. Yet, it was possible the young, but fabled Wind Warrior had protected the man. The narrow path was now wide; the bamboo cut back and burned away. Already they could begin to see the village.

As they grew closer still the smoke in the sky darkened the glare of the sky; the white clouds turning an ashy gray. The landscape quickly became dull; full of shades of gray and brown.

When the soldiers finally entered the village their only hope was that Yasuo had succeeded in protecting the elder and was now escorting him safely back to the placidium.

There was something odd and mysterious about the scene in front of them. Blood, gore, and destruction was present everywhere a man could reach, yet there wasn't a single body on the ground. There were countless tools and old rusted swords. A scarce few Noxian blades could be identified. The battle would have been vicious, brutal, systematic slaughter.

The group fanned out through the village searching for the elder. Not a trace of the man was found. The entire village was void of bodies.

The men stood in the center a confused cluster. There just wasn't any sense to it. Then, quietly at first, a eerie sound drifted over the village. A mournful devastated sound. It resonated throughout the village, but seemed to radiate from the farthest outreaches.

The men cautiously approached the sound. Eventually they reached a small burnt shack. A man sat out in front of it. The air around him swirled with debris almost in a protective cyclone around him.

Suddenly the air around him died. The debris dropping to the ground in heaps. One of the men from the Ionian party stepped forward.

"You, Stranger, possess power over the winds not seen in generations. I can only assume you are the fabled Yasuo."

Yasuo smirked putting down his flute. "Fabled? I have performed no good. Stilled no evil. There can be no tales of greatness easilly absent in the wake of my failures."

The man's face quickly grew a deep frown. "Failure…" He murmured. "The elder… he is dead is he not?" The man seemed to be begging for his statement to be shrugged away. Yasuo felt his guilt crushing him further.

"He is dead."

The man's face broke into a look of sadness and near horror. The other men in his group seemed to mirror his reaction. Finally the man spoke. "How did it happen?"

Yasuo let his eyes fall to the ground. He decided to come clean. "Gyro convinced me to help the battle in the town. I did. I was knocked aside like a gnat."

The man's eyes widened in anger. "You! You abandoned your duty! You… you fool! You imbecile! You failed…" The man's insults may have affected Yasuo before the battle, but now they could not even begin to compare to his own self loathing.

A grim smile almost surfaced on his face.

The man seemed to have come to an earth shattering conclusion and looked to Yasuo accusingly. "Why are you still alive if what you say is true? Why were you not slaughtered with the rest of those you _say _you fought to defend?"

"I… I fought their commander, atleast I think she-"

"She?" The man said incredulously.

Yasuo sighed. "She was." He continued. "She fought with more strength and speed than most could ever hope to possess. She bested me, but for some reason... For some reason she spared me."

"You know what I think _Yasuo, _I think you are a traitor! They _spared _ you for information on Gyro's location! You despicable-"

Yasuo's eyes flashed in anger. He loved Gyro. He was like a second father to him and here this man made such an absurd claim. "I. Did. No. Such. Thing. I promise you, I would have gladly died to save this village. It was not to be and to my misfortune I was spared."

"Why did you bury the body…? Let me see it. Now." The man's anger matched Yasuo's despite his ignorance. The man's zeal was great.

Yasuo's eyes boiled in rage. Slowly he stood and marched to the central clearing. He went to the center to where the fountain had once stood. "He lies here. You shouldn't deserve such a wise mans grave. His spirit is at ease. Please you must believe me." Yasuo almost begged the man to reconsider his accusations. It was to no avail.

"I don't believe you."

"Is my grief not enough?"

"Anyone can act scum. Especially with a good reward on the other end."

Gyro's body was removed from the ground. Very little decay had occurred since he had been lovingly placed into his grave.

The men inspected the body and all eyes rested on the single wound on his body. The deep wound in his neck. The straight clean cut was still clear. Everyone present was seasoned enough to know that no mere blade could create such a slash mark.

"So." The man said after examining the wound. "You are one stupid son of a bitch. You should have fled with your Noxian allies, scum. We won't be merciful to the likes of you."

Yasuo's eyes widened in anger. "You think I _killed _him?" The wind around him was picking up speed as his anger grew and the men in the party around him backed away nervously.

"You are under arrest on the account of the murder of Councillor Gyro, a elder, and for the desertion of your assignment as well as the suspicion of traitorous behavior." The man began to move forward to grasp Yasuo's arms.

Yasuo hung his head. Perhaps other Ionians would see him as innocent of the elders death. Perhaps they will forgive him for abandoning the elder. Even if he could not. No, there was still a good chance that he could go free.


	6. Chapter 5

Riven would never admit it, but Councilor Gyro had gotten to her. As much as she tried to justify the Noxian High Command, the poster child was faltering. She couldn't convince herself that the numerous slaughters she had partaken in made anyone stronger. The more she thought about it the weaker her resolve became.

The faces of those she had slain, not soldiers, but the innocent. The children. How the children bothered her. It's not like they were weak. They were simply ignorant of the right way according to her beliefs. Even the adults in her mind were nothing more than ignorant citizens; often times she pitied them. By no means did it waver her loyalty to Noxus. Noxus would never betray her. After all she was strong and Noxus valued strength above all else.

She was pulled out of her troubled thoughts as she approached Sunset Valley. Sunset Valley really wasn't the actual name. It was a name Swain came up with himself. The Ionians called it Coeur Valley. A young officer stood in front of her.

The man briefly saluted with a fist firmly placed against his chest and then slackened as she made eye contact with him. The man wore a mail coif over his head that allowed a sliver of his dark brown hair, typical of Noxians, to poke out from under the chain mail.

Compared to Riven's dark olive green plate armor the man looked near pathetic. Then again most weren't chosen to represent the ideal Noxian.

Finally the man began, "Sir… err. Mam-"

"Riven."

"The scouts seemed to have encountered a lot more resistance than they led on. The valley witnessed a rather large battle. Over four hundred Ionians litter the field. It seems they were devastated by the Scout force."

Riven frowned. The scouts would never lie about a kill count. It made no sense. If anything they would overestimate the count. Plus, Riven knew the man charged with the scout force. Talon was not a man to lie about something as trivial as Ionian death count.

"Hmm… Are there any other Noxian forces in the area?" Riven asked. She was already sure that the nearest force was days away and it was hindered with a division of Zaunite artillery. She nearly snarled thinking of the cowardly weapons.

"No Mam, The nearest force should be 22nd battalion and they march behind us at a safe pace to keep the Zaunite artillery safe."

Riven sighed at the man's formality. It was common place as a sign of respect, she knew, but she liked her real name much more than a single syllable.

Riven decided to put her men on high alert as they entered the valley. A strange feeling crept up her spine. This valley meant trouble and she knew it.

They passed several refugees on the way through the valley. Riven let them slide not wanting to deal with the minor nuisance. After all they were fleeing the country and to her, so long as they left, she could care less.

She overheard numerous whispers. Many would mumble as they saw her to those around her and she could have sworn one man said, "It is her. The poster child. The rumors are true."

To Riven it meant nothing. Who cares if they know that she would be the conqueror of their abandoned home? Perhaps if she wasn't so distracted with the officers report she would have noticed the blades and weapons many of the refugees hid in the folds of their clothing.

She pressed her men forward. As they reached the center of the valley she gave the order to break for the night. The sun was just barely dipping below the horizon.

That night the fires roared and the men feasted. Perhaps, Riven thought to herself, they too felt as though they neared their final battle. Riven didn't join in their festivities. She rarely ate before battle often times she would even avoid alcohol. She valued clarity and both things could damage her strength.

She woke well before the sun. She summoned her forces and within the hour her company was marching down the valley a thick veil of danger draped around them. The fog seemed foreboding and reduced visibility to several meters.

Riven found her grip on her sword whitening her knuckles and she had to constantly remind herself to loosen up. She despised the feeling. The games that seemed to being played frustrated her. She much preferred a straight forward approach where there was a clear victor and a clear loser. She liked there to be a clear enemy and an honorable fight.

Despite her caution, she never saw it coming. As they reached the end of the Sunset Valley a line of heavily armored Ionian warriors stood and blocked the road. They held giant shields and long pikes.

Every instinct in Riven's body screamed trap. "Ambush! Battle formations!" She yelled. Even as her cry rose into the silent dawn air she heard the roar of hundreds of battle cries. The sound was deafening and to her horror it was equaled by the pounding of feet.

The Noxians formed into a large box three ranks of men thick. Spears and halberds were brandished from behind the impressive shield wall.

Out of the fog like banshees, the Ionians charged. Wisps of cloud rolled off their flailing limbs shrouding them in an intimidating cloak of gray. Arrows and crossbow bolts sailed into the Noxian formation. The men raised their shields and did their best to protect themselves and each other. Then the elite Ionian forces engaged.

Riven was not a coward by any means. She stood in the front rank of her soldiers relying on her massive blade and impressive armor to protect her from archers. This fight was the first fight she was unsure of the outcome. She reveled in the battle. A true show of strength by both sides; where the strong would leave victorious.

She brandished her sword and encouraged her men with commanding shouts. To Rivens disappoint it soon grew obvious that despite the Noxians superior skill in combat the Ionians had the advantage of numbers. Their elite forces dashed in and out of the fray rarely endangering themselves to weaken the Noxian's valiant defense.

As the square broke down into a circle and grew tighter and tighter Riven was forced to locate her emergency courier. The "courier" was really a spell caster. Of course having such persons in your army was extremely illegal and easily could result in an unfavorable interaction with the institute of war; however, most countries found it necessary in times of great need and managed to slip them in here and there.

She found the woman she was looking for. "Darle, I need you to contact the 22nd battalion immediately. We need reinforcements desperately to win this fight favorably."

Darle was prohibited from actually using magical attacks and she was armed with a longbow. Her leather armor was nearly black and matched her hair and eyes. Overall the woman was strong willed and commanded a certain amount of respect from Riven despite her despicable use of the arcane arts.

Darle closed her eyes for what seemed like an eternity to Riven and said, "We will receive immediate aid."

Riven's eyes widened in surprise. The 22nd must have moved quickly to gain on her men so quickly. It seemed impossible that they would receive any sort of aid at all. She had expected a fight to the death order.

An arrow whizzing over her shoulder brought her out of her mental tangent. Many men and women had died on both sides. A true battle. With her massive sword she plunged into the fray. Blood spattered her armor, yet she remained nearly unscathed.

With a quick slash she nearly cut the Ionian in front of her in half. His entrails leaked out of the wound. With each swing she felt more invigorated. A powerful overhead cleave decapitated one man and slashed deep into another's chest.

She was a whirlwind of death. Her massive sword was able to break through weapons and crush through the strongest armor. Every hit she landed elicited a groan or more often a scream of agony.

She was able to mute the sounds. She was a soldier performing her duty to her country, and she was determined to do her job well.

Riven slowly grew tired. She had never fought so continuously or so vigorously and it was taking its toll on her body despite her amazing strength and will.

She began to slow. Her swings barely parrying aside stray blades. Her attacks became clumsy and she found herself simply aiming to hit the blow.

Riven saw it before she truly _saw _it. A green streak in the air overhead followed by the roar of a powerful explosion revealed its presence. She could recognize the sound anywhere. Zaunite war machines. The weapons were massive wheeled siege vehicles. They were capable of using a variety of ammo types from solid to gas. The crater in the battlefield soon created a cloud of toxic gas. Noxians and Ionians alike within the cloud began spewing their stomachs contents.

As the effects of the toxin truly settled in they began clawing their own faces and shredding their skin. Horrible screams echoed across the battlefield. Riven stopped fighting in shock. Everyone else had as well. The battlefield transformed.

No longer did the soldiers fight. They fled. Riven fled as well. The vile projectile soon covered the Valley's end. The screams of the dying echoed into the mid-day. The sky itself was blotted out as the toxic fumes clogged the sky.

Suddenly Riven was heaved off her feat and the ground shook around her. She rolled across the rocky floor and crawled forward standing up as she continued running. The man next to her sprinted ahead, running for his life.

He died instantly. His body shattered into pieces as massive rock stuffed full of chemicals careened into him. Riven was doused in his blood. Then the chemicals hit her. They burnt her skin. Her wrists and hands felt like ants crawled underneath her skin.

Despite her best efforts she was compelled to claw her skin away and did so viciously reveling in the relief that came with the loss of her skin. She retched constantly; spitting acid. Still, somehow, she ran. Clawing her body all the while as if it were on fire she screamed.

In a frenzy she ripped off random pieces of her armor tearing at her clothing underneath in a mad craze. Eventually the world quieted. Her forearms and hands were a bloody mess, but the effects of the toxin seemed to be relieved and exiting her system.

One last time she retched the feeble contents of her stomach. Her throat burned intensely and each breath of fresh air tore her lungs creating a fresh spike of pain. She curled into a ball, forehead to her knees arms wrapped around her thighs and slowly rocked back and forth.


End file.
